After a devastating explosion on Onderon, communication was cut off from the planet. However, out of hope or morbid desperation, retired clone Medic Commander Wyn sent a constant transmission to the planet in hopes to get a response. On the surface of his cluttered desk, a holo date hovered at the right corner. Day 27 and no response of any kind.
‘Life is pain, suffering is optional.” Easy to say, not so easy to overcome. Wyn had been working himself out of a severe depression by exercising and purifying his body to prepare for his last mission in life.
No one was going to stop him from finding out what happened to his adopted Marjadin community. Not even an old, damaged body.
Commander Wyn grunted his way through several chin-ups from a secured bar to the ceiling of his Kaminoan apartment. “Sixty-eight…sixty-niiine…Sev-Sev-….Auuugh. He hung there a moment, his arms and core burning from exertion, taking several heavy breaths he struggles through one last chin-up. ”Ssseventy!”
Wyn hung there a moment panting, not wanting to let go too soon. Gently, he lowered himself and groaned as he put his weight on his damaged knees.
The closet door opens and the assistance droid tentatively sticks its head out looking over the filthy and disorganized apartment as its master carefully stumbles to the couch, sitting heavily as he wipes his face and neck with a towel. Grumbling to himself, he tosses the towel aside as he leans over a coffee table full of parts and rummages through a near by box.
Wyn picks up a round disk studying its dimensions and holds it near the joint of his knee brace. He then places the disk on the table and unstraps both his knee braces, placing them there as well. The old Commander took his canes and struggled to stand.
“Do you need assistance, Master?”
“No! Get in the…” Wyn stood painfully and looking about his apartment, he sighed in tired frustration.
“Droid, clean this place up.”
“Yes, Master!” Said the droid as it eagerly left the closet.
“That neither. Keep your trap shut and clean the place.”
“Trap? I have no trap, Own…” noticing the Commander's cross expression the droid had shut down it's vocals until spoken to.
“Don't touch the desks, and send the office boxes there to Doctor Gida Fam. She can have them. Toss the rest.”
“Kriff droid!” Wyn passes his hand over his face, “Throw it away!”
The droid bowed and began its task as Wyn enters the refresher.
After a much needed shower, Wyn sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Kriff'in feel as old as I look.” His silver hair had taken over his dark black long ago. Salt and pepper hair graced his chest and belly. Battle scars still shown brightly on the skin of his chest, legs, left shoulder, right side, and down his spine.
‘Life is pain, suffering is optional.’ Wyn had been saying that mantra to himself more and more lately.
Taking a razor he began to shave, carefully trimming his mustache and goatee.
Thinking of his deceased bride and loved ones, he sniffed, “Oh, Elena. I have these new found years, and for what.” He sat on the bench retrieving a syringe, he injected both knees and wrapping his left knee with a bacta bandage, ‘I stayed in the GAR to protect you. I stayed at Kamino to find the end of age acceleration…’ “FOR WHAT!” Wyn slams a fist on the sink counter making a loud noise.
“KARK OFF, DROID!” The Commander barked as he rubbed his pained right knee.
Running his hand through his hair, ‘It’s time.’ He stood and retrieved a small vile from a hidden compartment in the medicine cabinet. Inside was a tiny info chip imbedded into a screw similar to the one he had implanted into his friend Commander Cody the year before. Taking another syringe, Wyn sat back down and slid the needle into the side of his leg near the knee. He pressed a button on the device which quickly drilled the tiny chip into the tibia just below his shortened patellar tendon. He then wrapped his knee with the bacta bandage and finished dressing.
Exiting the refresher, his apartment was clean and properly organized. “Well, I'll be Kriffed.” Wyn walked into the bedroom and opened the closet revealing his clone trooper uniform still marred and scored from several Clone War battles. He took his helmet and gauntlets and closed the closet. As he left the room, he noticed that a small, wooden box on his dresser was missing.
“There was a Marjadin wood box here. Where is it?”
“It was tossed, Sir.” The droid tilts its head, grey eyes blinking, “Perhaps I can arrange for a hearing test -“The droid was silenced by a powerful grip at its slender throat.
“YOU, listen carefully.” The Commander snarls, as he stood nose to nose to the droid, “I don't care how long it takes you, I don't care if you return. Find it.”
“It may be in the compactor…”
“Yes, Sir.” The droid hurriedly leaves the apartment. Wyn places a hand on the spot where the box lay for many years, “Kark’in droids.” He mumbles before he enters the living room.
Wyn sits in the couch and works on the knee braces he had been modifying. After hours, of trial and error Wyn removed his helmet and blew on the steaming metal he had been working on. Turning on the holo feed he searched for any word from the Marjadin region of Onderon. Silence, again, was the only response. Leaning back into the couch cushions he took a sip of high test caf as he waited for the metal to cool.
The doorbell rang and the droid returned, filthy and severely dented, but in its arms was the lost Marjadin box. The Commander tried to stand, but found it hard to rise, “Aww, kriff. Come here.”
“I had a time getting it from the compactor beast.” The droid handed the box to the Commander who ripped it out of its hands, “Who knew that wood was its favorite treat.”
Wyn examined the box as he ran his fingers across the intricately carved design, lingering on the single word, Nusuakoa. “You’re lucky it's not damaged. Go to maintenance and get cleaned up.”
Once the droid left, Wyn carefully opens the box. Inside is a Marjadin necklace which he puts on. Two small holo disks were hidden in the false bottom. The Commander smiles as he views the holo vids and pictures of his brothers and their shenanigans. He put that disk inside his left gauntlet.
The next disk, with a shell etched on the surface, showed images of the Marjadin community who adopted him.
The images stop and a pass code is requested. Wyn slides his thumb across the edge of the disk, leaving a small skin cell sample, then enters a long numerical passcode.
Elena, his Marjadin, Onderonian, bride appears smiling sweetly, her captivating blue-grey eyes shown brightly against her dark ebony completion. She stands facing him dressed in a traditional, brightly colored silk robe accented with ribbons of stones and shells.
“Wyn, love. I hope this message finds you well. I have been missing your com calls, but I understand that you must be dark for a mission.” She pauses a moment as she pulls at the long sleeves of her robe, “I wanted to wait until you returned to tell you, but you’ve been gone for so long… Remember when you told me we can not have children?”
Elena smiles as she smooths her hands over the brightly colored robe around her belly which bowed outward prominently as she showed her profile. “Yes, love, it's yours.” She parts the robe exposing her large, pregnant belly, The Force has surely blessed us.” She happily turns from side to side in a gentle dancing motion showing off her expanded girth.
The Commander chuckles as he watches her. Soon his vision is blurred by tears, and his chuckles turned to sad breaths. He sighs and wipes his eyes as the image continues to dance.
“You have only been gone for five months, but our little tempest is growing so fast!” She gently rubs her belly, “If we are unable to talk before the birth, I think I'll name him Nusuakoa. It means tempest. A fitting name, believe me.” She laughs lifting her belly slightly, “Ohh, he’s so heavy! Healers say I am on my seventh month already.” Elena stops her dance and huffs a couple of breaths as she rubs the side of her belly, “Nusuakoa… your son...is anxious to meet his father.” She chuckles as she pulls the robe around herself, “Stay safe, and come home soon love. I miss you.”
The old Commander looks at the paused image for a moment, before turning it off. ‘Ah, Darling.’ He holds the disk a moment running his thumb over its etched surface. He kisses it and puts it in his right gauntlet.
Touching the metal on his modified braces, and finding it cool to the touch, he put them on. On the right side, he flips a tiny switch and the braces obeyed his intended movement. The Commander stood effortlessly except for enduring the usual pain, but movement was much smoother and the canes were not needed.
“Yes! It works! But, still hurts like a kark'in…” He flips the switch again and the braces returned to normal functionality. He slowly sits on the couch, “Jaket.”
“Yes, Commander?” Came a familiar voice from the disk at the right knee joint.
The blue light on the disk flashes briefly and the brace behaves without flipping the switch.
“Excellent!” Wyn was still in pain, but his movement was a bit more fluid as he slowly moved about without his canes.
The doorbell rings and the droid returns.
“Ah, droid! Come here.” Wyn picks up his sonic screwdriver as he stiffly walked toward the assistance droid.
